


Sam Wilson is an Excellent Wingman

by deanharrisackles



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Farmer's Market AU, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-03-27 16:32:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13884771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanharrisackles/pseuds/deanharrisackles
Summary: Steve’s life is completely ruined because Sam Fucking Wilson opened his god damn mouth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello muffins! Well, I have been working on this fic for almost three years now. It was originally going to be much, much longer than what it is now but I lost my drive and I couldn't do it anymore. So I cut it down to what you see before you now. And I have to say, I'm pretty damn happy with it.
> 
> This story is complete, I'll be posting a new chapter (about four in total - maybe three) every Monday, and it is un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Thanks for taking the time to read my work and sticking with me. I hope you enjoy!

Steve Roger’s life is, in a word: simple. His job keeps him busy, his friends make him happy, and his love life…well, you can’t have it all can you? It’s a boring, normal, and unexciting life but after eight years in the military, he’s just fine with that.

  
Each day is the same, no bombs, no guns, no blood – only the sun on his back and the dirt under his nails. No waves, no commotion, just as it should be. So when a new business moves into the sleepy town of Sea Glass, it’s impossible not to hear about it.

  
Sea Glass is a small town and you know what they say about small towns and news. But it just so happens, this new business is on the opposite corner of his own mom and pop grocery store. So he is intimately aware of all the comings and goings.

  
He knows that up until a few months ago, Bobbi Morse’s artisan soap store stood empty with a ‘for sale’ sign plastered in one of the dusty windows. But ever since the property sold, the old store front has been wrapped up in a flourish of movement, contractors and workmen filtering in and out of the space as they work on remodeling the old building. No one knows who bought the space and what they plan to do with it, which only adds fuel to the rumor fire.

  
And apparently, it’s also a great source of visual entertainment for his employees. They huddle by the large store front windows every day, claiming to be working when really, they are just snooping on the mysterious building next door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the owner. And every day, without fail, they are disappointed. At least, until today it seems.

  
When Steve returns from grabbing new receipt paper from the stock room he finds Sam and Peggy up at the front, their noses pressed to the glass whispering to each other excitedly. Steve sets the roll of paper down on the counter a little harder than necessary, causing his good for nothing employees to jump.

  
“You know, I just had those windows cleaned.” He says pointing to the smudged finger prints they left behind. Sam has the decency to look slightly ashamed. Peggy on the other hand, beams at him.

  
“Steve!” she waves her hand exuberantly. “Come look! There are people!”

  
“There are always people Peggy. We are literally in the center of town.”

  
“No I mean there are people outside of Bobbi’s place!” She points over her shoulder. “And not construction workers, actually ‘I am in charge of all this’ kind of people!”

  
Honestly, Steve doesn’t really give two shits as to who Sam and Peggy are spying on but if going over there to look will make his best friends stop gossiping like teenagers, then damn it, he’ll go look. Steve abandons the receipt paper on the counter and strolls up to the front of the store.

  
It’s summer in the Hamptons. The trees that line the brick paved sidewalks are waving gently in the salty breeze, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. It’s the kind of day where you just want to plant your ass in the sand and not move until the stars shine bright in the sky.

  
“Look!” Sam points excitedly and sure enough, there are people outside. Not the random towns folk out for a midday stroll or a blurry construction worker that Steve has become accustom to seeing these days but three new people, staring up at the covered sign above the building’s door; two men with a woman standing between them, her blazing red hair shimmering in the afternoon sun.

  
There is an air of satisfaction and pride around the trio that screams ‘proud new owners’. Steve recognizes the stance. He had the same look of fulfillment when he finally got the store up and running. It makes his heart ache with the memory; the emotion running through him like it was yesterday. It was the day all of his hard work paid off, the day he did something for himself and not for the needs of others. It burrows deep and his chest, bringing a warm smile to his face.

  
“Who are they?” Steve asks, watching the group closely. “Are they the owners?”

  
“They must be.” Peggy replies. “They certainly have the look about them don’t they? I wonder what they’ll be doing.”

  
“Shit, I hope it’s not a new fro-yo place.” Sam says with a shake of his head. “I fucking hate fro-yo. Just eat the damn ice cream man, who cares about a few extra calories?!”

  
Steve rolls his eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s friends with them.

  
He makes his way over to nearest gondola under the guise of checking his produce, turning some of the red peppers so the overhead light catches the bright red of their skin. And if his new position gives him a better view of the people gathered outside, well it’s just a happy coincidence. 

  
“Are they on our supply list?” Steve asks.

  
In the grand scheme of things, his little farm on the edge of town is really just a small home garden compared to the other farms found on Long Island. But Steve does well enough. He can provide for his store and the few restaurants around town that appreciate the little guys. And really, that’s good enough for him. But adding new people to the roster sure doesn’t hurt. In fact, he now distantly remembers that they just added a new place to the list.

  
Suddenly Steve feels really stupid.

  
“Yeah, I dropped off the goods this morning before you got here.” Sam nodded. “I talked to the blonde one…Caleb maybe? I don’t remember his name, sounded nice though.”

  
“Do you know what their place is called?”

  
“No but, whatever they are making smells damn delicious.” Sam looks longingly over to the building in question. “Definitely didn’t smell like fro-yo so I think we’re good there.”

  
“I think you’re the only one who was worried Sam.” Steve chuckles. “So who’s the other guy?” He asks nodding to the man with the dark brown hair.

  
Peggy says something but Steve doesn’t catch it. He’s too busy looking at the dark haired man to listen. The guy is tall, only a few inches shorter than him if he had to guess. Well built with lithe muscles moving gracefully under the tight black t – shirt that is shamelessly clinging to his body. And god those _thighs_. Steve wants to bury himself in them. Grip them as he swallows the man down, feel them clench around his hips as the man rides him, sweat rolling off his toned chest as he moves up and down and up and down -

  
“Jesus, he’s drooling.” Sam’s voice rips through his thoughts like a knife. “Peggy get the hose, Steve’s having impure thoughts about Mystery Man over there.”

  
Steve feels the heat of embarrassment flood his cheeks as he quickly looks away. “Shut up jerk.”

  
“You should ask him out.” Peggy suggests while picking absently at her nails.

  
“I’m not going to ask him out, I don’t even know him.”

  
“So what, that’s the whole point of dating.” She replies. “To meet someone new and see where things go. It’s about time you tried it.”

  
“I’m fine Pegs.” He says turning on his heel and making his way back to the counter. He has a feeling this conversation is about to take a turn down ‘why Steve never dates’ and honestly, he would rather stab himself in the eye then talk about that.

  
“Oh yes and this ‘friends with benefits’ situation with that Wade Wilson character you’ve got going on is completely healthy.” She digs, pointing her perfectly painted nail in his direction. “You need to see people Steve, have a real relationship with someone, a relationship that means something.”

  
Steve hides his flinch by ducking down and picking up a crumbled price tag off of the floor. Jesus Christ, today is not his day.

  
“She’s not wrong you know Steve.” Sam supplies as he folds his hands diplomatically on the counter. “I know you think you’re fine, doing this thing with Wade, but you’re only hurting yourself in the long run.”

  
“I’m gonna head out.” Steve says standing up and cutting off the extremely personal and unwanted therapy session. Not today Satan.

  
“C’mon man, don’t be like that.” Sam backpedals, “We’re just looking out for you.”

  
“I know.” He nods, swallowing hard. “It’s just been a long day ok?”

  
“Yeah ok man, whatever you say.” Sam says grabbing Steve’s hand and pulling him into a brief hug as he walks by.

  
“Steve Rogers running away from a fight, I never thought I’d see the day.” Peggy gasps playfully as Steve kisses her on the cheek.

 

“Oh I’m not running away, I’m just saving my energy for the big one.”

  
“Empty threats Steven!” Peggy calls to his retreating back as he slips out the back door into the bright sunshine. He jumps into this truck and starts up the engine, his stomach in knots.  
The subject of Steve’s love life is always a difficult field to navigate. In fact he’d rather not talk about it with anyone, ever. So running away is the obvious choice.

  
The truck turns down the dirt drive of the farm house, Steve trying his best to push the current thoughts out of his head. Green fields roll past his open window, the sound of the waves lapping at the rocky cliffs of Mecox Bay grow stronger the closer he gets to home.

  
Where his love life falls short, his work certainly makes up for it. He loves his farm; the backbreaking work, the feel of the dirt under his skin, the burn of his muscles after a long day of work. It makes him calm and fills him with a sense of purpose that he has long forgotten.  
When Steve joined the Army, he was fresh out of high school and had just lost his mom. Money was tight and he had no other family to turn to. The military offered him pay, housing, and the stability he so desperately needed. It was also a chance for him to do something with his life that matted. He was bright eyed and incredible naïve yet he knew he had purpose. He knew he was making a difference.

  
But after awhile, after all of the blood and death, Steve wasn’t sure what he knew. He didn’t feel like he was making a difference; he just felt like another cog in an uncaring machine. It weighed on him until he could no longer bare it. He needed to do something with his life that didn’t revolve around taking another’s. That’s when Steve made the choice to leave and find his place again.

  
The farm was his answer. It offered him solace when his mind got stuck on the bombs of war, the blood he shed, and the lives he couldn’t protect. The earth was there for him, solid and unyielding.

  
He spends the rest of his day out in his little patch of land, filling box after box with home grown produce to sell at tomorrow’s farmers market. Sweat drips into his eyes as he works and dirt stains his skin but he doesn’t stop until the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Aching and sore, Steve stumbles into his little farm house, dumping his clothes into a heap on the floor before starting up the shower.

  
The water feels like heaven against his sun warmed skin, washing away the physical evidence of his labor while his mind begins to drift.

  
He doesn’t know why he hates talking about his love life so much. Maybe it’s because his well meaning but entirely too invested friends keep hounding him to settle down. But really it’s because of all the relationships he’s had; they’ve all turned to shit. To say that Steve’s faith in people is low would be the understatement of the century. He’s lost count of how many people he’s dated thinking that they could be The One only for them to turn around and break his heart like it was nothing. He’s put himself out there too many times any gotten burned. He’s in no hurry to do it again, even if he wants so desperately to have someone to come home to.  
Steve cuts off the water and quickly towels off. He can see from his window a fire burning out back by the bay and the familiar sounds of his friends already half way to wasted. With a shake of his head, he dresses quickly and goes out to meet them.

  
The stars and shining brightly up in the sky and the air is cool and thick with the scent of salt and burning wood. Out behind the barn, nestled away in a small corpse of trees, his friends sit around a glowing fire in mismatched lawn chairs talking animatedly to one another.

  
Peggy and her cousin Sharon are sharing a bench, shoulders touching as they laugh at a private joke, a nearly empty wine bottle at their feet. Beside them sits local bee keeper Bruce Banner who is currently partaking in a heated yet civil argument with eccentric billionaire, Tony Stark. Sam and local bar owner, Thor Odinson, are watching the argument while roasting hot dogs over the open flames. The argument comes to an abrupt stop as Steve grows closer. All of his friends eyes zero in on him making him pause in his tracks.

  
He does have pants on right? Steve glances down to his legs quickly to check. Nope, definitely wearing pants.

  
“By all means, please help yourself to my food and alcohol.” He says, taking a seat next to Sam and stealing one of his hot dogs.

  
“What happened to mi casa es su casa?” Tony Stark asks. “And here I thought we were friends Rogers.”

  
“Shut the fuck up Stark.” Steve says taking a bite of his food. “I thought you had a company retreat this weekend?”

  
“I do, I just retreated to a different location than the rest of them.” Tony shrugs.

  
Peggy lets out an undignified snort from her seat, leaning heavily on Sharon’s shoulder. “And does Ms. Potts know that you,” she pauses, lifting her hands in the air to make air quotes. “Retreated to a different location?”

  
“Ms. Potts is currently out of the country so what she doesn’t know,” he looks around at the group with a withering stare, as if daring anyone to tell her where Tony _really_ is. “Won’t hurt her.”

  
“When are you gonna make an honest woman out of her Stark?” Sharon asks before sipping from her glass of wine. Tony takes a deep breath; gearing up for what Steve is sure is going to be another one of his long tirades so he tunes him out in favor for a less charged conversation. 

He turns to Sam who is watching the Sharon/Tony interaction with trepidation. “We all set for tomorrow?” he asks, offering his friend an excuse to turn away from the train wreck.

  
“We are. You just gotta show up with the goods and I’ll be there serving the looks.”  
“Please don’t. We want to keep customers Sam, not lose them.”

  
“If you are looking to bring in customers, maybe I could be of assistance?” Thor suggests, flexing his massively thick arms. It takes everything for Steve not to choke.

  
Steve met Thor during his one of his tours overseas. He had joined the Army to help expedite his citizenship but instantly clicked within Steve’s small group of men. When Steve’s contract was up, both Thor and Sam took an honorable discharge and followed him to Sea Glass to help get the farm back on its feet. A few years ago Thor left the farm to open his beachside bar, Asgard, which became an instant hit with the town. Every now and again, Thor will stop by and help out in the fields but he spends most of his time split between the bar and his lovely wife, Jane.

  
“I’m just sayin’,” Thor shrugs, patting Steve forcefully on the back. “Just let me know.”

  
“Jesus!” Sam howls with laughter, nearly falling out of his seat.

  
Steve takes a deep swig of his beer as Sam wipes the tears from his eyes. “Yeah pal, I’ll keep you in mind.”

  
“I’m sorry did I miss the memo where it was gang up on Tony night?” Tony’s voice interrupts sailing above everyone else’s. “I for one am curious to know about this mystery man that has our fearless leader all in a tizzy.”

  
Steve groans and hides his face in his hands. Why do his friends do this to him? Why can’t they just let him be?

  
“Oh yeah y’all are gonna love this.” Sam adds with a gleeful smile on his face. “Steve here is crushing on the new guy across the street.”

  
Sharon gasps loudly and clutches her chest in shock. “Steven Grant Rogers, are you in love?”

  
“In _love_?” Steve questions in disbelief. “I don’t even know his name let alone who he is. How in the hell can I be in love?”

  
“Is this you confirming that you find him attractive?” Peggy asks her cheeks rosy from drink and laughter.

  
“No I’m just saying that I don’t love him, I don’t even know him! How the fuck are you making these conclusions?”

  
Seriously, what is wrong with these people?

  
“I don’t know Steve.” Bruce pipes up because all of his friends hate him and want to make him suffer. “The man doth protest too much methinks.”

  
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Really Bruce? You too?” Bruce just shrugs. Really, he has no idea why he’s friends with any of these people, they are monsters.

  
“Ok pause and rewind, what do we know about this guy?” Tony asks holding his hands up to stop all conversation. “I need details.”

  
Steve is just about ready to dig his own grave.

  
“We think the man young Steve here finds attractive to be the new owner moving in across the street from his store.” Thor supplies. “But other than that, I am afraid we don’t know anything else.”

  
Tony practically deflates. “We don’t even have a name? I can’t google ‘hot guy that owns a store in the Hamptons’.”

  
“It’s not really that big of a deal.” Steve says hoping that the conversation will die because yeah, this is not how he wanted the night to go. “So I found some guy attractive, it’s not the end of the world.”

  
“Oh fuck yes it is.” Tony says snapping out of his stupor. “You finding anyone attractive is life shattering news. Now tell me, what does he look like? He’s gotta be better than Wade fucking Wilson if he’s caught your eye. Come on I need all the details!”

  
“What part of we don’t know anything about him don’t you get?” Steve questions looking at the genius like he’s only pretended to be smart all these years because really, was he not just paying attention?

  
“Come to the market tomorrow if you want to find out.” Sam points out and Steve’s blood runs cold as anxiety grips him.

  
“What?” he asks in a hushed whisper because surely he just misunderstood his friend.  
Please God tell him that the Mr. Thighs for Days, Mr. Sex on Two Legs is not going to be at the market tomorrow. Because that would _really_ fucking suck.

  
It would be a cruel twist of fate. And honestly, hasn’t he suffered enough torment tonight to last a life time?

  
“Oh yeah I forgot to tell you. The red head lady – who is, by the way seriously hot but I’m pretty sure can kill me with her pinky finger – put a sign up on their front door not long after you left, they’re going to have a stall tomorrow right before their grand opening.” Sam smiles like he knows this is causing him pain.

  
“Excellent!” Tony cries. “I’ll be there with bells on.”

  
Steve slinks down in his lawn chair and purposely tunes out the ongoing conversation about this mysterious guy who, at least from the backside, is really fucking hot. Christ, if he knew finding someone remotely attractive was going to cause this much of a riot amongst his friends he would have gone celibate years ago.

  
Steve takes a long pull of beer, wincing as the lukewarm liquid spills down his throat. His friends have moved on to bigger and better subjects than Steve’s crush but he’s stuck, dread washing over him from every angle.

  
Tomorrow is going to fucking suck. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments on the last chapter and thanks for the kudos! It means the world to me! I hope you enjoy this (longer) chapter as well!

Steve’s favorite part about the small little Sea Glass is the square right in the center of town. Well, one of his favorite parts at least but, the square is pretty high on his list. Besides the warm sand and cool waters of the Atlantic Ocean, the square of Sea Glass is the second most populated area of the town. Small boutiques and restaurants fill the shops that make up the town’s shinning jewel and object of Steve’s affection.

 At the center of the square there is a park, home to towering live oaks and brick lined paths dotted with benches and flowering bushes that fill the air with their perfumed scent. A beautifully ornate fountain sits neatly in the middle, its gurgling waters blending seamlessly with the faint crash of waves that can be heard in the distance. Pennies line the bottom of the fountain, many local’s hopes and dreams whispered into the sloshing waters with the expectations that one day they will come true. Steve would be lying if he said that at least half of them didn’t belong to him.

On Saturday mornings during the summer, like today, the square shuts down and venders from both Sea Glass and other small towns haul their crafts out to the street and sit beneath airy white tents for the Farmers Market. Locals from all around the Hamptons prowl the streets trying new foods and buying the products their fellow inhabitants have created.

Steve’s store sits right on the corner of the east side of the square, putting him the perfect position to catch customers as they flood in from the water or flock to the sandy shore. It also gives him a perfect view of Mystery Man’s tent that sits on the corner to his left. The newly revealed sign reads _Adela’s_ and shines brightly in the morning sun. Steve tries – and fails – to set up his crates of produce before the rush begins. Sam shakes his head, his lips tilted up in laughter every time he catches Steve sneaking a peek, as he scribbles the list of prices on the store’s chalkboard sign.

Mystery Man is too busy with his own tent ready to notice Steve’s not so subtle glances. But the one thing that anyone in a ten foot radius can notice is how Steve is totally, completely, irrevocably fucked.

If he thought the Mystery Man’s backside was something his wet dreams were made of, he was in no way, shape, or form ready to see the flip side.

 Mystery Man is all sharp jaw lines and high cheekbones, with the barest hints of stubble and pouty red lips that are tilted up in an ever present smirk. His well toned arms, peeking out from a ridiculously thin white shirt, flex as he saws through loaves of bread with a dangerous looking knife he handles with ease. Steve’s heart is beating a little faster than normal and his pants might grow a little tighter. The Mystery Man’s skin glistens with a faint trace of sweat and Steve has to bite down on the urge to rush over there and lick it away. 

Really, it’s quite rude, the stupid Mystery Man being so damn distracting with his face, and those stupid arms, and _his fucking thighs_ – Jesus Christ. Steve is trying to run a business here and this guy is making it really, really, really hard. He’s hoping that as soon as the crowds come a calling, he’ll be too busy to look over and see just how devastatingly handsome the stranger is.

Unfortunately that is not the case. As soon as the first person arrives Steve is frantically running around grabbing more produce from the chiller in the store, answering questions about the harvest and how the tomatoes will look this year, but the one thing that sails above all the noise is the heart stopping laugh of the _mother fucking_ Mystery Man.

It’s contagious, full bodied, and downright ridiculous. Steve knows most of these people and he knows that they are seriously _not_ that funny.  But there he goes, laughing like whatever his last customer said was the funniest shit in the world. It tugs at Steve’s lips as it rings in his ears, trying its hardest to make him smile. He tries, _god he tries_ , to tune it out but the laugh is just so loud and intoxicating. And every time he hears it, his heart flips. He tries to squash the feeling down but, he can’t help but feel like he is fighting an uphill battle.

And his friends certainly don’t make the situation any better. Peggy and Sharon keeping sending him knowing looks as they package up beautiful bouquets of their flowers while Sam harasses him with endless bouts of teasing. Bruce thankfully stays silent, intent on selling his jarred honey and carefully crafted beeswax candles rather than joining in on the torture. Another small blessing is the distinct lack of one exuberant billionaire but the day isn’t even close to over so Steve plans on keeping his eyes peeled for yellow tinted sunglasses and Black Sabbath t-shirts.

Steve takes the money Wanda Maximoff pulls from her beaded handbag as he gives her a brown sack of garlic, leeks, and Brussels sprouts; his eyes darting over to where Mystery Man is talking up her brother, his arms moving dramatically. Wanda smirks as she catches him staring.

“You should ask him for his number.” She says in her thick Sokovien accent, taking her purchase into her arms.

Steve stares at her dumbfounded.

“That man,” she points over to the bane of Steve existence who is now handing over a small chuck of rich, dark bread. “You like him, no?”

“Fucking Christ.” Steve groans as Sam bursts out laughing causing several customers to give him a concerned look.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Wanda asks, looking equally as confused and concerned as the people around her. “You do like him right? 

“Hell yes he does.” Sam buts in. “But Steve here is too chicken to go over and ask.”

Wanda rolls her eyes. “Men.” She says before waltzing off to meet up with her brother. Steve watches as she introduces herself to the Mystery Man, pointing over to where their restaurant sits nestled in between Star Lord Theater and Darcy’s Cake Shop. They shake hands, the Mystery Man giving the siblings a blinding smile that literally makes Steve weak in the knees and heat pool in his stomach.

Seriously, what the _fuck_ is up with this the guy?

“C’mon man just go over and introduce yourself.” Sam says for the three hundredth time that day, coming up behind Steve and placing a hand on his shoulder. The flow of customers is starting to thin out as the end of the market grows nearer, robbing Steve of his excuse to dodge Sam’s many attempts to force Steve into make contact with Mystery Man.

Steve tries his best to keep on ignoring his friend by placing the last few crates of peppers and lettuce on the front table.

“If you don’t do it, I will.” Sam threatens in deadly serious tone. Steve spins on his heel, the color draining from his face in a panic.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He hisses.

Steve loves Sam, he really does. Like Thor, Sam was part of his unit during the war, always on his six. They have been through some nasty stuff together. Sam had even given up his own promising career in the Army to follow Steve back to the Hamptons to work the farm. He knows what it’s like to come home to a world that just wasn’t the same. Sam is more than just his best friend, he is the closest thing to a brother Steve has ever had.

Although, Steve is definitely reconsidering that now.

“Why not Steve? Who’s it gonna hurt huh? No one that’s who.” Sam counters. “Go over there and welcome him to the neighborhood and all that white people shit. I’m not asking you to get down on one knee and ask him to spend the rest of his life with you. Just go say hi for fucks sakes!”

Steve’s brow furrows as he places his hands on his hips. He sees what Sam is trying to do. Get him to go talk to the Mystery Man and maybe, just maybe something magical will happen and they’ll fall madly in love. Yeah, he’s been forced to watch Sharon’s Hallmark movie collection too. He knows the drill and he’s not going to fall for it.

“If you’re so keen on introducing him then why don’t you go over and play friendly neighbor. Who knows you might get a date of it.” Steve points out and goes back to rearranging the last few crates hoping that some straggler will take them off his hands.

“Fine.” Sam says with a shrug and steps out from underneath the tent, making his way over to where Mystery Man has started cleaning up his space.

Sam moves too quickly for Steve to stop him, his friend’s shirt sleeve just brushing through his fingers.

“Hey man.” He can hear Sam say as he comes to a stop at Mystery Man’s tent, hand held out in welcome.

“Hey.” The guy replies taking the offered greeting and giving Sam a dazzling smile of white teeth and dimples.

“Listen, my buddy over there,” He says pointing his thumb over his shoulder to Steve and he can instantly feel his face begin to redden as the man’s eyes catch his. Steve pointedly ignores how the guy bites his lips choosing to readjust the already readjusted produce instead.  “Really likes your buns and I’m not talking about the bread.”

Steve is pretty sure his heart just stopped beating.

His head snaps up as he stands frozen.  Both Sam and the Mystery Man look over at him with matching grins on their faces. The guy gives him a scandalous wink/smile combination as he wiggles his fingers in a flirty wave. Steve just stares back blankly before his flight or fight instincts kick in and he drops to the ground, his ass hitting the pavement.

What in the fucking shit just –

Sam just fucking said –

_Holy motherfucking shit_!

Blood is rushing loudly in Steve’s ears as sheer mortification falls over him, causing his world to come to a screeching halt. He would have been fine, _fine_ , admiring the fucking Greek god from afar, _F – I – N – E_. But no, Sam just _had_ to play the good neighbor, _had_ to be the meddling friend and now this happens! He’s never going to be able to show his face in town again. Soon everyone will know that he thinks the new guy has a great ass – which to be totally fair, is absolutely true but that’s not the point – and will forever be known for that dumb ass pick up line that he didn’t even say! Steve’s life is completely ruined because Sam Fucking Wilson opened his god damn mouth.

Steve is going to fucking _murder_ him.

Moments later Sam’s shoes appear, his hand reaching out to pull Steve to his feet.

“No thanks I think I’d just like to sit here and die.” Steve mumbles weakly, still in shock though his rage is boiling.

“C’mon man, your smokin’ crush is already gone.” Sam chuckles as he grips Steve’s limp hand in his own and pulls him to his feet. Sure enough, Mystery Man’s stand has been completely deconstructed and the doors to his new restaurant are thrown wide to accommodate the growing line of interested townies.

The last remaining crate of Steve’s peppers and lettuce are suspiciously missing.

“Your boy bought the last box. He told me to tell you that he really likes your peaches too.”

Steve groans, holding his face in his hands. “I don’t even sell peaches.” He mumbles. How did this become his life? What happened to his peaceful summer where all he had to worry about was sunburn and his weekly deliveries? When did his friends decide that now was a perfect time to highjack his love life and mentally scar him for the rest of his poor, pitiful existence?

“I hate you so much right now.” He says through his fingers. Sam just laughs and begins folding up the tables. Begrudgingly, Steve helps take down the stall and pack it all away in the backroom, giving Sam the silent treatment the whole time. 

It isn’t until a few hours later, after they had opened up the store for the day that Sam slaps down a business card in front of Steve, leaning his back up against the counter with a proud look on his face. Steve picks up the card and gives it a look. It’s a simple, light blue square with _Adela’s_ centered in the middle in bronze lettering. Scribbled on the back in sloppy, curved writing are a time and a location.

“What the hell is this?”

“Your guy wants to meet you. Tonight, at Asgard. 8 PM.” He says smugly. “I am an excellent wingman.”

“No, you are an excellent pain in my ass and I’m not going.” Steve says frankly. He’s had enough embarrassment to last a lifetime today. He doesn’t need any more.

“Steve c’mon, it’ll be fun!”

“For you maybe, me on the other hand…not so much.”

“Why not? The dude is totally into you! And who knows, it could be the start of somethin’.”

Steve lets the card fall to the counter, planting his hands on his hips. Enough is enough. “That’s what you don’t understand Sam. I don’t want anything to start. So the guy is hot, big deal. I don’t want anything from him, I’m not interested.”

“Steve.” Sam practically pleads. “I know you think you’re happy or fine or whatever with this thing you’ve got going on but you can’t keep doing this, it’s not good man.”

Steve huffs out a humorless laugh, crossing his arms defensively. “And why can’t I? I don’t have to be with someone to be happy.”

“I know that but I know _you_ Steve, you’re not happy.” He says plainly. “I can see it, Peggy can see it. You say you’re fine but I’ve seen how you look at Thor and Jane man. I’ve known you for a long time and I know you don’t want to live your life alone.”

“I’m not alone.” Steve responds pitifully, refusing to acknowledge that Sam kind of hit the nail on the head. “I’ve got punk ass friends like you.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” Sam says seeing right through Steve bullshit attempt at humor. 

And he does. He does, he really does.

Sometimes, when they are all hanging out at Asgard, he’ll catch himself staring at Thor and Jane. The easy touches, the casual gestures of living in someone else space and trusting them completely, it makes his heart ache with longing. He’s _tried_ god damn it. He’s tried time and time again only for it to end in failure. He’s sick and tired of showing up on Sam’s doorstep, heartbroken and eyes red with tears. He wants someone in his life that will love him but it just doesn’t seem like that person exists. And the more he thinks that, the more he believes it. So why should he even try?

“Could you just…I don’t know? Humor me? Just this once?” Sam asks, sounding spent. “I’m not asking you to go on a second date here, just go out with him tonight, maybe make a new friend; open yourself up to the idea that you can have love in your lifetime.”

Sam pats him lightly on the shoulder before walking off to help a customer. Steve stares down at the business card, his brows scrunched together. He’s not so sure he’s ready for this just yet.

But he still finds himself standing outside of Asgard that night, palms sweaty and heart racing. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Why in the ever loving fuck is he listening to Sam Wilson?

Steve steels his mind, this is only going to end in one of two ways. He’ll meet the Mystery Man, he’ll have a horrible personality (just like all the others), they’ll fuck, and that will be the end of it. Or, Mystery Man will be nice but really not looking for anything so they’ll just become friends. Steve would much rather go with the latter. With that in mind, he takes a deep breath and pushes open the door.

Asgard is the hang out spot for just about everybody who lives in Sea Glass. Polished wooden floors, dim yet comfortable lighting, and small clusters of tables scattered throughout the building keep it a step above the typical dive bar. The beachside deck and boardwalk are especially crowded during the summer, tiki torches and twinkling fairy lights glowing year round, making the little bar a shining star in the inky blackness of night. Thor and his staff keep the place clean and inviting, making it the place to be on any given night.

Thor is behind the bar as Steve enters, engrossed in conversation with another patron, nodding his head along in agreement. His eyes light up as they fall on Steve, a terrible sign if Steve has ever seen one.

True to his prediction, Thor excuses himself from his conversation and bellows out to Steve.

“The object of your affection is out on the deck Steven!” he calls in the most proper and obnoxious voice known to man.

If the floor could go ahead and swallow him up, that would be a huge favor as every head in the bar turns his direction causing his face to go beet red.

Steve fidgets with his shirt under the scrutiny, giving Thor a death glare. “Thanks Thor.”

“Of course!” Thor booms. “I have to say, he is quite handsome. I always knew you had good taste.” He winks.

Steve bites back the urge to groan, instead he just nods and pushes he way out to the deck. He steps outside and is instantly hit by a wave of ocean breeze, tousling his hair and wrapping around his body, cool on his heated face.

The deck is surprisingly empty for a Saturday night, only a few couples dot the salt rough wooden platform. Multicolored lights twist around the banisters and tiki torches burn brightly against the dark sky. Waves crash in the background, distant cries of seagulls washing over Steve giving him a small moment of calm, until he sees him. Sitting alone in the corner facing the dark beach, Mystery Man looks down right sinful with his dark jeans and black shirt, nursing a bottle of beer. It’s ridiculously unfair.

“Hey, you must be Steve.” Mystery Man says as Steve walks up to the table. He sticks his hand out for him to shake and it’s strong and warm, making Steve’s heart pang.

 “First off I just want to apologize for my friend.” Steve blushes taking a seat across from the man.

 If he thought Mystery Man was something to admire from afar, he is not prepared to have all that beauty right there in his face. The man is beautiful in such a way that words can’t seem to do it justice. Piercing blue eyes, icy clear to the point where they almost seem grey and delectable plush lips just made for kissing. Steve is pretty sure epic poems have been dedicated to his prominent cheek bones and strong jaw line. In fact, Steve is pretty sure Mystery Man is a Greek god in disguise, sent down from Olympus to torment him because he is secretly a horrible person or something like that. If anyone deserves to be tormented like this it should be those terrible, no good people he calls his friends.

“Sam has problems with boundaries.” He finishes lamely.

“Nah man, it’s fine.” The guy says giving Steve a warm smile. Steve feels weightless. “It wouldn’t be the first time a gorgeous guy’s wingman dropped a pick up line on me. But I have to say, it’s by far the best.”

“No, no it’s not. Sam is literally the worst.” He assures him. Their waitress, a tall and striking brunette named  Sif, walks up to their table and places Steve’s regular beer order on the table as well as a basket of chips and salsa. She gives Steve a familiar pat on the shoulder before walking away.

“I take it you come here often?” the guy asks as he scoops up a generous amount of salsa onto a chip and shoves it into his mouth, his candy pink tongue sliding out to sweep the salt off of his finger tips. 

“You can’t live in Sea Glass and not come to Asgard. It’s practically the law.” Steve responds, dragging his eyes away from the man’s mouth.

“Good to know,” he smiles again, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “I’m Bucky by the way. James Buchanan actually,” Bucky clarifies. “I wish I could say that my parents were big history buffs but I feel like it was just a horrible accident.”

“Well, no one’s perfect.” Steve tries and fails at flirting. Bucky just nods, biting his lower lip.  Yeah, no one’s perfect except for this asshole sitting across from him. Jesus, Steve is way out of his league on this.

 “So how’s Sea Glass treating you?”

“Honestly, it’s been pretty fucking awesome.” Bucky says. “I use to come here when I was little you know. During the summer me and my family would come and visit my Grandma, it’s like a second home for me.” Bucky is explaining, dragging his left hand through his hair.

“No kidding.” Steve says weakly, trying his hardest to focus on Bucky’s face and not the way his dark hair catches in the firelight.

 “Yeah but I haven’t been back in a long time.” Bucky says scooping up another serving of salsa onto a chip, moaning slightly. “What about you? You from here?” he asks, pulling Steve’s thoughts away from how he can make Bucky moan like that again.

“Hmm?” he questions, blinking owlishly.

“Are you from Sea Glass?”

“Oh, no. I’m not.” Steve mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I’m from Brooklyn.”

“No shit?! Where?” Bucky responds his eyes lighting up in the most perfect way.

Steve can feel the blush creep over his skin. “Red Hook. You from Brooklyn too?”

Bucky’s smile is nothing short of blinding. “Fuck yeah man, Cobble Hill! We were practically neighbors!”

“No shit.” Steve finds himself incapable of not smiling back. “What are the odds?”

“You like it here? Away from the city?”

“It took some getting use to but yeah, I love it. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Bucky nods, thoughtfully. “And farming? That something you always wanted to do?”

“No, it’s not what I thought I would be doing but…”

“You love it?” Bucky finishes for him, eyes sparkling. “I can tell.”

“What about you?” Steve is pretty sure his face is just going to stay permenitly red from now on, after all this blushing he’s doing. “Has baking bread always been a passion of yours?” Steve asks.

“Ever since I was little.” Bucky nods. “My Dad bailed on us after my sister was born so my Gran moved in to help my Ma and I ended up helping her out in the kitchen a lot. That’s when she taught me how to make bread. And it just kind of stuck I guess.”

“You go to school for it?”

“Nah, couldn’t afford it. I started working in restaurants as soon as I could though. It taught me everything I need to know.”

 “Well, I can’t wait to try it out.” Steve says eagerly. “Whatever you were giving out today at the market smelled really good.”

“Stop by anytime pal.” Bucky says softly, looking up at him through his obnoxiously long eyelashes. “I’ll give ya a discount.”

Sif stops by before Steve can respond with refills in hand. She takes their orders before darting off again, leaving the pair of them looking at each other awkwardly.

“So,” Steve starts, hands running up and down his thighs. “You said you worked in a lot of restaurants?”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckles. “The stories I could tell. People are strange Steve, people are very strange.” Bucky chuckles, one of his long, perfect, fingers tracing designs in the condensation on his glass, his eyes never leaving Steve’s face.

“I’d love to hear some.” Steve swallows hard. Holy shit he cannot flirt. Wow.

Bucky smirks like he knows he’s got Steve right where he wants him as he dives head first into a story about a  crazy knife wielding chef, a pot of boiling water, and a banana peel. His hands move with the story energetically, his voice pulling Steve in deeper and deeper.

Bucky is beyond charismatic, every smile, every wink he throws in Steve’s direction has him falling for the guy. Steve is, shockingly, one hundred percent infatuated with him. Bucky is like the sun, pulling Steve into his warm, happy embrace never making him want to leave.

Steve has lost count how many times he has nearly fallen out of his chair from laughter. The amount of kitchen disaster stories he has are overwhelming but still Bucky finds a way to never sideline Steve once. For every story he tells, Steve backs him up with two of his own, mostly Sam related.

What can he say, Sam is 100 percent accident prone and Steve is 100 percent going to take advantage of that fact.

They swap stories all through dinner and somehow find themselves sitting down on the beach, cool sand between their toes, nothing but a little white lantern sitting on the table between them and the bight summer moon providing them with light.

Bucky is wiping away tears from his eyes as Steve closes out a story about Sam’s last trip to the hospital, involving too much alcohol and Thor’s surfboard, sighing contently. Steve watches as he rests his head on the back of his chair, looking up at the inky black sky with the most serene look on his handsome face.

“Christ, I can’t wait to meet Sam.” Bucky humors. “I am going to roast the shit out of him.”

“Please do,” Steve responds. His heart flutters at the thought of Bucky meeting his friends and he doesn’t really know why. It’s not like this is going to turn into something, he’s just here to humor Sam. And the fact the Bucky is literally everything Steve has ever wanted; well you can’t have it all can you? “Someone needs to help deflate his massive ego.”

“I bet he’s got some good stories on you too.” He winks, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the most adorable way.

Steve nearly chokes on the beer he has been nursing. “And that my friend is why you’ll never meet him.”

“C’mon don’t be like that.” Bucky whines, shifting in his chair to face Steve. He looks beautiful like this, his face lit with the warm glow of the lantern, the soft evening breeze ruffling his hair, his eyes completely focused on Steve…it’s breathtaking.

“You really want to meet my friends?” Steve asks, trying not to sound too hopeful.  Sam would flip his shit, literally flip something over and take full credit for all of this if Steve and Bucky became you know, _Steve and Bucky_.

It’s kind of a nice thought.

Bucky is handsome, sharp witted, and kind. He doesn’t seem like the typical hot loser Steve normally attracts. But, god, he’s not ready to throw in the towel yet – as much as he wants to. He’s been burned by too many pretty faces to just jump in head first at the first sign of a friendly smile.

But damn, he has never felt so at peace as he does now, sitting next to Bucky. He feels whole, complete…happy. He can’t imagine going back to a life where he doesn’t feel like this all the time.

“Yeah pal.” Bucky smiles leaning in closer. “You seem like a really great guy. You obviously care a lot for this town and your friends and being new and all, I could use some new friends.” He pauses, biting his lip, his nose just inches from Steve’s. “And maybe someone who could be more than just my friend?”

Steve breath catches in his throat. He hadn’t realized how close they had gotten but there Bucky is, those blue eyes pouring into his. All he would have to do is lean forward just a little bit more and they would be touching. He wants to do it, god he wants to do it so bad, to feel those lips against his own, to get his fingers in his hair, Steve wants it so damn bad.

The moment is rudely interrupted by Thor’s booming voice, crying out for last call. Bucky huffs out a laugh as he leans back into his chair and drapes his arm over his eyes. “Figures.” He says so softly that Steve almost doesn’t hear it.

Steve gets it, he really does, but he stands up anyways, offering his hand to help Bucky to his feet. Bucky takes it with a smile, Steve’s skin burning in the most pleasant way when they touch. They walk back up the sandy boardwalk, sidestepping the bar, and strolling leisurely to the parking lot in a desperate attempt to keep the night from ending.

 “I had a really great time tonight.” Bucky says facing him head on, those piercing blue eyes boring into his.

“Yeah me too.” Steve replies, breathless.

Bucky’s perfectly wonderful lips tilt up into the shit eating smirk that has Steve thinking up all kinds of inappropriate thoughts.

“We should do it again some time.” he says, still with that smirk painted on his face. Steve really needs him to stop doing that or things are going to get awkward real fast. But Bucky’s face keeps getting closer and closer to his, to the point that he can see the little flecks of grey in those icy blue eyes, the smattering of freckles on his left temple, smell the beer on his breath, until Bucky is all Steve knows.

And then those lips, cherry red and velvet soft, are brushing up against his cheek, sending fireworks skidding across his skin.

When Bucky pulls away, his eyes alight with mischief, leaving Steve’s weak in the knees. “See you around Steve.” He says before turning on his heel and disappearing into his tiny little four door sedan.

Steve stands there for a while, his hand cupping his cheek. He feels warm and tingly all over, his heart beating double time in his chest. He hasn’t felt this way in well…ever. And somehow in a span of a few hours Bucky has managed to completely win over Steve’s heart. Just like that, like it was sitting on a shelf waiting for someone to grab it. It’s a little unnerving how easy it was to do given how hard Steve had worked to keep it locked away. But somehow Bucky did it.

In just one day his whole life has been turned upside down leaving Steve reeling. He doesn’t know which way is up or what to do next but there is one thing that he knows for certain; he is completely, irrevocably, and totally head over heels in love with Bucky Barnes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the lovely comments and kudos! Only one chapter left after this! Thanks for reading!!

Steve wakes to the insistent pinging of his phone on his nightstand. He groans and burrows deeper into his pillow. It’s Sunday, the day of rest. The only fucking day of the week Steve doesn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn for work. So he plans on ignoring whoever keeps texting him and is going to sleep in god damn it.

However, the asshole texting him has other plans.

He clumsily reaches for his phone, blinking at the harsh light of his screen, and sighs.

**SAM** : How’d it go last night?

**SAM** : Did you go home with him?

**SAM** : Are you at his place? Is that why you are ignoring me?

**SAM** : Steven

**SAM** : Steve

**SAM** : Steve

**SAM** : Steve

**SAM** : Steve

**SAM** : Steve

**SAM** : Steve

Steve rolls onto his back and pinches the bridge of his nose. He needs a new best friend.

**STEVE** : What the hell do you want?

**STEVE** : No I did not go home with him and no I am not at his place. Now will you please shut up so I can sleep?

**SAM** : How did it go?

**STEVE** : fine

**SAM** : Just fine? I need the deets.

**STEVE** : Please don’t ever say that again

**SAM** : Then just tell meeeeeee

**STEVE** : It was fine. He’s a great guy. I like him a lot. Are you happy now?

**SAM** : Are you gonna see him again?

**STEVE** : I’m going back to bed.

Steve lays his phone on his chest and sighs. He knows he’s not going to be able to go back to bed. Because Sam is like a dog after a bone and will not stop until he wheedles every last detail out of Steve whether he likes it or not. Sure enough, not but two seconds later, his phone pings again. And again. And again.

He thinks it might be time to change his phone number.

**SAM** : Steveeeeeee

**SAM** : don’t leave me hangin man!!!!!!!!

**SAM** : I will drive to your house mother fucker don’t think I won’t

**STEVE** : jfc meet me in town in fifteen minutes

**STEVE** : and bring coffee asshole

**SAM** : ;))))))

Steve rolls his eyes. Yeah, his friends suck.

Fifteen minutes later, he is sitting on his favorite bench on the square, sunglasses shading his tired eyes. It is purely coincidence that his favorite bench also has a perfect view of _Adela’s._ Of course Sam doesn’t see it that way as he strolls up with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“You got bad man.” He says in lieu of hello.

“I do not.” Steve responds, grabbing his coffee and taking a much needed sip. He should still be sleeping god damn it.

Sam doesn’t look convinced. “Whatever you say man.” He drinks deep from his own cup before diving into the interrogation.“So…?”

“So what?” Steve asks, prolonging the inevitable.

“C’mon man, how was it? Really? And don’t just say fine.”

Steve huffs out a sigh. “It was good ok? He’s handsome and funny and basically everything I could ever want.”

Sam’s smile is blinding. “I am the best.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. It was just one date not a marriage proposal.”

“Do you want a marriage proposal?”

He gives Sam a pointed look. “No I don’t.”

“What about a second date?”

Steve chooses that exact moment to take another sip of his coffee. He would be thrilled with another date. Hell, he’d settle just sitting next to the man, just to be near him – that’s how far gone for Bucky he is but Sam doesn’t need to know that.

“If you wanna second date, I’ll get you a second date.” Sam says moving to stand up. Steve chokes on his coffee. Oh hell _no_. Not again. Steve gets his breathing under control and pulls Sam back down onto the bench.

“I don’t need your help, thank you very much.”

“Then walk yourself over there and get you a second date.”

He can’t be serious. “You can’t be serious.” Steve deadpans.

“Hell yeah I’m serious.” Sam responds. “I know you tryin’ to act all cool like this boy don’t have you spinning but I know you Steve. You can’t lie for shit. So go over there and get a second date or I’ll do it for you.”

“Fine.” Steve says hoping that he looks way more confident than he actually feels. “I will.” Sam is looking him like he won’t do it and well, Steve has never been one to back down from a challenge. So he stands up and begins walking in the direction of Bucky’s restaurant without paying Sam any attention.

But with every step he can feel his head strong confidence slip away and his nerves grow. Fuck Sam. Fuck him, this is all his fault.

And yet…Steve _wants_ a second date. He wants one so badly. No, he wants _more_ than just a second date, he wants _Bucky_. In any way Steve can get him. So he takes a deep breath and pushes forward until he is pulling open the restaurant’s antique front door, a wave of fresh baked bread and the sharp scent of coffee washing over him.

The inside is buzzing with activity, people from all across town sitting in mismatched chairs at artfully scuffed up tables. The walls are all exposed brick that has been painted the softest shade of light blue, making the space feel larger than it really is. There are black and white photos scattered on the walls, glowing cheerfully from the low hanging lights.

A young girl with straight black hair, tied back with a purple bandana is maneuvering her way through the seating area, stopping at the large wooden bar that is attached to the right wall. The bar is topped with display cases, filled with a verity of fresh bread, bagels, and massive cookies that look to be the size of a person’s face; above it is a large chalk board menu. People are lining up at the bar waiting to place their order while a woman with fiery red hair helps the customers at the register.

The young girl spots Steve standing awkwardly in the doorway like an idiot and calls back into the kitchen, disregarding the crowd completely.

“Hey boss man,” she yells loudly. “That hot farmer you won’t shut up about is here.”

There is a loud crash from the kitchen, a few muffled cruses, and then Bucky is there, looking haggard with flour streaking his face and his hair in a disheveled mess. It’s ridiculously adorable. Bucky gives Steve a little wave before pointing to an empty booth tucked away in the back corner.

Steve nods and snakes his way to the table, his heart his pounding loudly in his chest, his palms sweating with every step. This was a fucking stupid plan.

“Hey pal.” Bucky says waiting for Steve to slide into the booth before sitting down. “It’s good to see you.” He’s even more adorable up close. Steve is hopeless.

“Yeah,” Steve blushes, rubbing the back of his neck to keep from reaching across the table and brushing the wayward flour off his handsome cheek. “It’s good to see you too. It’s not a bad time is it?” Steve gestures to the people sitting around the tables.

“Oh no.” Bucky replies. “The morning rush has hit a lull and my team’s pretty good. They can handle it.”

“I mean, if you’re sure.” Steve keeps pushing. He doesn’t know why he’s doing that, he wants to be here. Sitting across from Bucky now, seeing those sharp eyes and those soft, pink lips, it’s all Steve wants to see for the rest of his life. But he has spent so much of his life pushing away from relationships, it’s only second nature for him to try and back out whenever he can. “I can come back at a different time.”

“No, no, now is good – great even.” Bucky assures him with a nervous smile. “I uh, I wanted to talk to you actually so yeah, it’s great.”

Steve heart starts thumping in double time.

“That’s funny.” Steve says with a small chuckle. “That’s kind of why I’m here too. And to get something to eat because it smells fucking amazing in here.”

“Uh, thanks.” Bucky blushes and oh wow. Yeah, Steve needs to make him to that again because _wow_. “So, what can I do you for?”

Steve wants to scream, like what the hell is with this guy? All flustered and blushing one minute and the next he’s dropping lines like that. Bucky will be the death of him.

“I had a lot of fun last night. More fun than I’ve had in a while and I also…really like you…like a lot.” Steve mumbles in a rush. “So I was wondering if you’d like to go out again? With me?”

Bucky watches him with a neutral face that makes Steve sweat. Second dates are not really his thing; actually dating really isn’t his thing and the fact that he is here asking the most gorgeous guy Steve has ever laid eyes on to go out with his for a second time is something short of a miracle. Neutrality is really not something that Steve wants to see right now.

The silence stretches for a moment too long and Steve’s heart begins to sink. He feels like a fucking idiot for listening to Sam, for going out on a limb and doing this in the first place – it was all for nothing. Bucky’s kiss from last night was nothing.

“Steve,” Bucky begins his voice carefully neutral. “I would absolutely love to go out with you again.” He says flashing Steve a blinding smile.

Steve sits stunned. Before he knows what he’s doing, his arm shoots out and punches Bucky not so lightly on the arm.

“You asshole.” Steve grumbles. “You fucking asshole.”

Bucky is nearly folded in half from laughter. “I’m sorry Steve, fuck, I’m sorry just had too.”

“No you didn’t you fucker.” The relief rolls off his shoulders despite how fucking awful Bucky Barnes is.

“Steve listen,” Bucky says, wiping away the tears that have gathered at the corner of his eyes. “I really like you too. Like a lot. And I would fucking love to spend as much time with you if you’ll let me.”

“I don’t know…I’m currently rethinking how much I like you now.” Steve pouts. But Bucky reaches out and takes one of Steve’s hands into his own, warm and perfect.

“Steve, I’m serious.” He says all traces of laughter gone and replaced with a look of such intensity that Steve gets lost a little in those deep eyes.

But he still makes Bucky sweat it out; after all, it’s only fair. Once the panic starts to set in, Steve grants him is relief, squeezing Bucky’s hand in response. “I know. I think.”

“How about you stop by here around 8ish? Right before close? We can do dinner?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “Yeah that sounds great.”

Just then, Steve’s stomach decides to make itself known, grumbling loudly.

Bucky snorts with laughter before standing up. “Let me do something about that.” He says pointing to Steve’s stomach and disappearing into the kitchen.

Steve feels like his lungs are full of helium. He feels like every sappy cliché just smacked him across his face and took up residence in his heart. It’s been so fucking long, _so long_ since he’s had a meaningful relationship – something that’s gone beyond just the physical. He hadn’t known how much he’s missed it until Bucky was – albeit rudely – shoved into his life.

But there is a part of him, a horrible, terrible, part of him that can’t help but feel that everything is too rushed. His heart is nearly exploding out of love for this guy that he just met. There is no way that it could happen so fast, that Steve could fall so full heartedly in love only after one date.

That horrible, terrible part of him punctures a hole in his lungs, his elation from successfully scoring a second date seeping out of him like a deflated balloon. But then Bucky returns with a sunny smile and a brown paper bag smelling like absolute heaven and Steve is riding high again, just like that. This up and down of his emotions is leaving him reeling and he’s not too sure how he feels about that.

“Eight o’clock yeah?” Bucky confirms as he hands over the bag. “I’ll make sure this booth is free, so just come in a sit down, make yourself at home – all that shit.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Steve smiles, their fingers brushing, fireworks exploding over Steve’s skin. Embracing this morning of spontaneity, Steve leans forward and places a chaste kiss to Bucky’s cheek, just as Bucky had done last night.

He pulls away, smirking at he stunned look on Bucky’s face. “I’ll see you later.” He says resisting the urge to kiss him over and over and over.

“Yeah pal,” Bucky responds breathlessly. “See ya.”

Steve smirks again before forcing himself out of the restaurant and back to the bench Sam is currently laid out on, messing with his phone. Steve hits his legs with the bag, making the man jump with surprise.

“Well?” Sam prompts, sitting up to make room for Steve. Just because he can, Steve ignores him and unpacks his bag. He pulls out a massive bagel sandwich, stuffed with eggs and bacon and dripping with cheese. Steve’s stomach growls at the sight of it.

“Dude, tell me.” Sam tries again, momentarily distracted by Steve’s awesome breakfast. “How’d it go?”

Steve takes an exaggerated bite earning him Sam’s patented bitch face. “I’m meeting him at 8.” He responds through a mouthful of food.

“Man you are disgusting but I’m proud of you.” Steve flips him off and takes another huge bite of his bagel. He might just marry Bucky on his cooking ability alone because _damn_.  “You know, I should get some of that.” Sam licks his lips. “Seein’ as I got this whole thing started.”

“You woke me up on my day off so no, you don’t.”

Sam shakes his head. “The disrespect. Unbelievable.” Steve proceeds to eat the entire sandwich in front of him, cherishing those envious looks Sam keeps sending his way. Serves him right, after all he did. Even if what he did was kind of for Steve. But he was still an ass so Steve doesn’t feel guilty in the slightest.

After promising on his mother’s grave that he’ll text Sam in the morning, they part ways. Steve goes home to spend a few hours working the land, harvesting some ripe tomatoes and checking up on the newly planted alfalfa seeds. He spends a couple of hours on the edge of his property, the rocky shore that gives way to Mecox Bay. It’s peaceful. It gives him time to think about his life and the sudden crossroads he now finds himself at.

On one hand, he can continue on with his life. Thank Bucky for a good time but just stay friends. It’s the safe thing to do. Go on with his life like he always has and keep his heart protected from the inevitable heartbreak that is sure to follow.

Or he could listen to Sam, listen to his heart in how it aches to be near Bucky. He could give his heart to Bucky and trust that he’ll treat it right. It’s a scary thought to have, to give something so precious to someone he just met but god does he want to and that, that is even scarier.

Steve sits there for a while, until his toes are shriveled and the sun has set before he forces himself to his feet. As he gets ready for dinner, he can feel something warm and comforting settle in his gut; he’s going to see Bucky again. He can’t help the smile that appears on his face at the thought.

The smile falls off his face when he is waiting for Bucky at the same booth as before, only this time it’s not Bucky who is sitting across from him but the red head who was working the register earlier that morning. She pins Steve with an assessing glare, causing him to freeze in his seat. She is beautiful but he’s pretty sure that she could kill him and make it look like an accident. Needless to say, she kind of scares the shit out of him and he’s not really sure what she is doing right now.

“C-can I help you?” he stutters moving his hands down to his lap. “I know you’re closing soon but I’m meeting the owner….for a date.”

“I know.” Is all she says, her eyes never leaving his face. He has never felt so exposed.

“I’m Steve.” He offers, unsure of what to do. The woman arches a brow. “Let me guess, you knew that too?”

“I know a lot of things Steve.” Her voice is soft and whiskey rough. “And I want you to keep that in mind if you ever hurt him.”

“Oh for the love of god Natasha.” Bucky interrupts standing at the end of the booth, dish cloth thrown over his shoulder and hands on his hips. “You’re not my fucking body guard.”

“I’m just making things known.” Natasha shrugs. “It was so lovely to meet you Steve.” She flashes him a predatory smile and gracefully slips out of the booth. Steve is a little bit in shock.

The red head – Natasha – saunters back the counter, her green eyes flashing in warning.

“So that’s Natasha,” Bucky rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. “She’s a little overprotective.”

Steve blinks. “Yeah, I got that.”

“So uh,” He looks down at his shoes before looking back at Steve. “You wanna join me in the kitchen? I mean, we can eat out here but I just thought it would be better back there…”

“The kitchen sounds great.” Steve grins, standing up. In a daring move, he puts his arm around Bucky’s waist and brushes his lips against the slight stubble of Bucky’s cheek. “Lead the way.” He whispers.

Bucky shivers against him and nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah, this way.”

Together they walk back to the kitchen, Steve’s hand against Bucky’s hip the whole way.

The kitchen is brightly lit and shining with stainless steel. It smells like yeast and smoked meat, making Steve’s mouth water in anticipation.

“I made sandwiches.” Bucky says, placing two paper plates down on a prep table. “It’s kinda my thing.”

Steve chuckles. “I would have never guessed, you know, with you owning and running a sandwich shop and everything.”

“Shut up.” Bucky rolls his eyes and elbows him in the ribs playfully.

Steve takes a seat at the table, pulling his plate closer to him. Whatever Bucky has made, smells delicious. He kind of just wants to shove his face into it and worry about manners later. But his Ma raised him better than that, so he waits.

“Clint – my sous chef – got this awesome pork shoulder from a guy named Coulson. I think he’s got butchery outside of town? Anyway, what goes better with summer than barbeque?” Bucky waves his hands with a flourish. “So I present to you, pulled pork with a sweet barbeque sauce and a red cabbage slaw on a toasted brioche bun.”

It tastes as good as it smells – no it’s better – and Steve is literally incapable of holding back a moan. “Fuck Bucky.” He drags a hand across his mouth, sopping up the juice that is dripping down his chin. “This is amazing.”

Bucky smiles, small and bashful. “Thanks. I mean, Clint’s the one who cooked the meat. I just threw it together. So really, it’s him you should be thanking.”

“Bucky.” Steve puts his sandwich down and grabs hold Bucky’s hand where it rests on the shining surface of the table. “Take the fucking compliment.”

His smile grows as his cheeks flush bright red. Bucky nods before tucking in to his own food.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. Your restaurant name, who is Adela?”

“My Gran.” Bucky says in between bites. “I thought I would pay her back for all that she gave me by naming my restaurant after her.”

 Steve melts. God damn it if Bucky isn’t the most handsome, most caring, and charming man alive. Honestly how can someone be so perfect?

It isn’t until Bucky is choking on his food that Steve realizes that he said that last bit out loud. Steve, internally screaming at himself, thumps Bucky on a back a few times before he can breathe again.

“I wouldn’t say I’m perfect.” Bucky gasps. “But thanks.”

Steve hides his face in his hands, wishing for the floor to swallow him up. “If it’s any consideration.” Bucky says pulling Steve’s hands away. “I think you’re pretty perfect too.”

“Hardly.” He snorts. Christ, he is a fucking idiot and now Bucky knows just how far gone he is for him. But it looks like Bucky might be the same way and if that is true…

“My turn.” Bucky leans back in his chair, his eyes holding nothing but trouble. “What was Sam’s reaction to all of this.” He gestures between them.

“Unbearable. Completely smug and even more full of himself than he normally is.”

“How did you two meet anyways?” Bucky chuckles.

“Iraq.” Steve answers. “He was stationed with me during my first deployment. I haven’t been able to shake him since.”

“You were in the military?”

Steve nods. It used to be hard, when he first got out to talk about his time in the Army. For a while he was haunted by the lives he took, saw things that weren’t really there. It was rough – truthfully Steve was afraid that he might never shake his past. And if it wasn’t for Sam, forcing him to talk to someone, pushing him back out into the world, he’d still be there. But after therapy, the shadows stopped creeping behind every corner and it got easier to talk about.  “Two tours, eight years.”

“Wow.” Then after a pause, “When did you join?”

“Right out of high school. My mom had just passed and I had no other family, no money. It was really the only thing I could do.”

“Jesus Steve, I’m so fucking sorry man.”

“It’s alright. I served my time and then some. Kind of forgot who I am so I left, came here and found myself again.” Steve shrugs.

“Are you happy?”

Steve smiles up at Bucky, face open and honest. “I am.” he responds without any hesitation. “I really am.”

“Well good.” Bucky nods. “As long as you’re happy, that’s what matters.”

A timer goes off on one of the four industrial sized ovens Bucky hopping out of his chair to turn it off. He reaches for a dish towel, pulling open one of the ovens and taking out the white baking dish inside. “I made some pie, so I hope you like apples.”

“Ah, actually, I’m allergic to apples.”

Bucky spins around with a frantic look on his face. “Shit, yeah? Ok that’s fine. I can make something else. What else are you allergic to?”

Steve can’t stop laughing. He literally cannot. In fact he nearly falls out of his seat from laughing so hard. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he wheezes.

“I take it back, you’re not perfect.” Bucky snaps, placing the hot dish on the counter and stomping back over to his chair. “You’re Satan.”

“Yeah but you still like me right?” Steve bats his eyelashes innocently. Bucky does not look amused.

Once their plates are empty and the pie has cooled, Bucky scoops a generous portion of ice cream on top of the pastry and beckons Steve to follow him up a flight of stairs hidden in the back corner of the kitchen. They lead to a small upstairs apartment that looks like it’s doubling as an office for the restaurant and Bucky’s home. There is a small kitchenette, a toilet and sink coved by a flimsy shower curtain, and a shabby mattress on the floor. But there is a small balcony facing the back of the building looking right out into the dark ocean.

Bucky opens one of the doors leading out and gestures for Steve to join him. The cool night air is refreshing against his heated face. Steve fills his lungs with it. They sit down on the wooden deck, knees brushing as they eat.

“Is there anything that you can’t make?” Steve asks after another sinful mouthful of pie.

“You’d be surprised how many recipes I’ve fucked up over the years. If you ever want a beef wellington, you’ll have to find someone else to make it for you because I sure as hell can’t.”

Steve doesn’t believe him but he’s willing to humor him – he’d do anything if Bucky is the one asking.

“Hey Steve,” Bucky is suddenly looking at him with a serious face. “Can I be real with you for a second?”

He swallows hard, nodding. “Yeah Buck, what’s up?”

“I really like you, like a lot. And I want this to be more than just friends and I’m hoping you feel the same way too.”

Steve can’t help but smile. “I really like you too Buck but I have to be honest.” Panic sweeps across Bucky’s face and Steve rushes forward. “I haven’t been in many relationships, not ones that last. So you’ll have to be patient with me. I’m a little rusty. And by a little rusty I mean really fucking rusty, like this is the first date I’ve been on in _years_.”

“I think I can handle that.” Bucky breathes out a sigh of relief, closing the space between them to kiss Steve long and deep. Steve’s pie plate slips from his hands as he reaches out to grab onto Bucky’s jaw, thumb rubbing over his cheek. “We’ll go as slow as you want Steve as long as I’m with you.” He kisses Steve’s skin like a promise.

Steve gives in. He’s throwing in the towel, he’s taking that leap, he’s putting all of his cards on the table. All of his reservations, all of his fear, he’s letting them go. He’s going to go all in with Bucky not just because Bucky is the best man he has ever met but because Steve deserves this. For too long he has let his fear of commitment take control, he has been too complacent with his life. He needs this. He wants this. He wants Bucky.

This beautiful, caring man likes him and wants to be with him. Steve is going to cherish that and he will do everything in his power to keep him. To keep those eyes on him, those hands on his body, those lips against his own – Steve wants it all. And for the first time in a long, long time, Steve is going to let it happen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end! Thanks to those who have read, commented, and left kudos! I love y'all very much and I hope you have enjoyed this little fic!

**_Five Years Later_ **

Steve wakes to an empty bed. The sunlight is filtering through the curtains, warming the room with soft morning light. It’s peaceful but, his bed is empty. With a sigh, he rolls over to his back, throwing his arm over his eyes.

His life is, in a word, simple. His job keeps him busy and his friends make him happy. It’s a boring, normal, and unexciting but after the life he has led, he’s just fine with that. What he is not fine with is waking to an empty but what can you do?

With another sigh, Steve pushes himself up from his bed and slips a stray t-shirt over his bare chest. After taking care of his business in the bathroom, he thumps down stairs to the kitchen. There is a tray of biscuits cooling on the counter and standing by the stove, completely shirtless is the love of his life.

Bucky is so absorbed in frying up some chicken cutlets in his new cast iron skillet that he just bought and is very proud of thank you very much, that he doesn’t notice Steve creeping up behind him. He wraps his arms around his middle, kissing Bucky’s bare shoulder.

“You’re gonna burn yourself, cooking like that.”

“I’m a professional. I don’t burn myself.” Bucky says leaning his head back to kiss Steve’s cheek.

Steve rolls his eyes but keeps his arms wrapped around him, feeling his lithe muscles shift underneath his soft skin, holding him close.

“Chicken biscuits?”

“You know it sugar.” Bucky drawls in a sticky sweet southern accent that has Steve stirring in his boxers. Steve bites him gently on the shoulder in retaliation. “Ouch!” Bucky hisses and for a moment Steve is afraid that his actually hurt him until Bucky pulls away, grabbing a paper towel and wiping a spot of grease off of his chest.

“Put a fucking shirt on professional.” Steve snorts. Bucky grumbles something unintelligible as Steve pours himself a cup of coffee and takes a seat at the kitchen table. He twists his wedding ring mindlessly, watching Bucky disappear into the laundry room only to appear moments later, sadly wearing a shirt.

For the past five years, Steve’s love life has been on an upswing and for now, it doesn’t look like it will be ending any time soon. He’s not one to go around boasting but, his life is pretty damn perfect. Just like the man who is putting a plate of food in front of him but he might be biased, it is his husband after all.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Steve asks, drizzling some of Bruce’s honey on top of his chicken biscuit. It doesn’t happen very often but every once in a blue moon he and Bucky will have the weekend off. Most of the time, these weekends are spent in bed, relearning every inch of one another. But when Bucky is up before the sun, Steve knows there will be plans that do not revolve around bed sheets.

“I thought we could spend the day at the beach.” Bucky says tucking into his breakfast. “I could make some sandwiches or something, have a picnic and then meet up with the gang at Asgard for dinner.”

Steve nods. “Ok, that’s fine with me. It’s been a while since we went to the beach.” An idea pops into his head and a crooked smile appears on his face. “Maybe I can try my hand at surfing again. What’da say teach, you think I can do it this time?”

Bucky turns bright red and aggressively ignores him. Steve can understand why, seeing as last time Bucky tried to teach Steve how to surf they ended up in a very compromising position on a very public and slightly crowded beach.

“I was thinking more along the lines of just sitting.” He finally responds tightly. “In separate chairs. Several feet away from each other.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Steve leans forward, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

Bucky’s knuckles are white where he clenches his napkin. “I hate you so much.”

“No you don’t.” Steve says fondly. “You love me.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, a stupid dreamy look of his face. “I guess I do.”

“Good because I love you too.” And oh boy does he. He loves Bucky so fucking much it almost hurts. And to think that he gets to spend the rest of his life with him, to think that he almost passed this up all those years ago because he was afraid of letting go…it leaves Steve floored every time he looks at Bucky’s gorgeous face. “You know, it’s still pretty early.” Steve inches forward. “I can think of one thing to do before we head out.”

Bucky looks up, his pupils blow wide. He takes Steve’s hand and all but drags him up to their bedroom.

Later they are sitting on the sand, nothing but the waves and the soft cries of the gulls to keep them company, Steve entwines their fingers and sighs long and content. Bucky smiles over at him.

His life simple. His job keeps him busy and his friends make him happy. It’s boring, normal, and unexciting but with the love of his life by his side, he is perfectly fine with that.


End file.
